From Outside Time: a collection from Ulara
by DawningStar
Summary: Miata, selftitled Chief Poet and Archivist of Ulara, presents a collection of poetry dealing with the original Dragoons, Rose's struggles, Charle's guilt, and other aspects of life outside time. Fifth group posted: Ularan laments are really depressing.
1. Introduction

From Outside Time: a collection from Ulara  
Opened in Deningrad National Library 100 After Moonfall  
Introduction

* * *

I'm quite certain Rose thinks I'm an idiot for even trying this--and she's probably right. No one will ever read any of this, after all, since no one wants their thoughts seen while they're still around to see the reactions, and if all of us die, there isn't much chance the world will survive to read anything. 

But Charle gave me permission, and since even Rose brought me a contribution (reluctantly, and she stood over me while I sealed her parchment until such time as it wouldn't matter who looked at it) I think most people have accepted what I'm trying to do.

Or else they're just humoring me. I'll take it, either way. There isn't anything else to do...

Just in case anyone ever _does_ see this, perhaps I'd better explain a little more clearly. In the box you have evidently just opened, I, Miata of the Spring Breath City Ulara, am sealing a collection of documents that I feel convey something of ourselves. A lot of it is poetical in form, but there are other things as well. The majority is highly depressing--our situation doesn't lend itself to humor easily--but, again, there are a few exceptions.

The seals I'm putting on here ought to keep it closed until several years after everyone in Ulara has died, since they're keyed to the failure of the timespell here. By that time, of course, if we fail and the Moon falls, there may be no one left alive to care. But it's possible that our long watchfulness could end well, that Charle or the Humans will find a way to seal the Moon Child's soul away again...and as I said before, this collection has given me a purpose for a good thousand years, which is a fine accomplishment for any hobby, even if it is pointless.

But enough from me--I've included so many of my own poems, and notes, that you'll likely get sick of me talking before long, whoever you are.

Oh, one more thing. If you're reading this, and any of my contributors happens to still be alive somehow? Don't read any more. Bury it somewhere. Believe me, it's safer.

--Miata, currently Chief Poet and Archivist in Ulara the Spring Breath City  
Sealed in the 100th Cycle of the Moon-Child

* * *

Contents:  
Rose's sealed writings  
voices from the past (writings of the six Dragoons)  
Charle's sealed writings  
songs of the children   
laments  
outside Ulara

* * *

A/N--I've had a great many poems inspired by this game collecting for years now, so here's my chance to put them out, since very few of them will be included in my fics. Just a couple for now, because I'm putting them in groupings and most aren't quite done yet. Soon, though. I'm quite pleased with some of the later ones. 

Nothing to do with this collection, but I promised to direct some people to the new forum, the only one currently set up for Legend of Dragoon. Could be fun discussing, but we need some more people. It belongs to Elements of the Psyche. The site won't let me paste the link.

Hope to see some of you there.

Oh, and review if you like my attempts at poetry. I'll try not to put in any more author's notes. Next grouping should be here soon, as it's nearly done.


	2. Rose's Sealed Writings

From Outside Time: a collection from Ulara  
Opened in Deningrad National Library 100 After Moonfall  
Rose's sealed writings

* * *

_(Rose never let me look at anything in this package. I count myself quite privileged that she let me include it at all, since it took several hundred years of pleading before she would. I have no idea what she wrote. --Miata) _

there was a time, when I was young  
(and I am old--old, since I lost you)  
I was happy...  
the shifting clouds return the past to my eyes,  
and again I remember  
your arms about me;  
the smell of clean flame and of trust  
as I leaned back against you,   
and you whispered in my ear _I love you forever..._

and memories fade with endless years,  
but still I feel your hand on mine...  
beloved, forgive me!  
slipping away...  
my heart is grown cold now,  
joy cannot touch my sight  
and the world is bitter ashes,  
for I shall never love again:  
you are gone.

yet my life is for you:  
because you gave yours  
to bring about this world,  
all your hopes live here still,  
and I will not have them destroyed...  
for this I will live, I will go on,   
though despair turns unshed tears to ice  
as blood stains my hands and sword,  
and each stroke tears at my soul.

there was a time, long ago  
(but years mean nothing now)  
when the darkness held no fear,  
the night was starlit and joyful  
and my heart warmed to your flame;  
but it is gone...  
without you I feel my soul freeze over  
and the shadows hide a monster now--   
black fire and ice bringing death.

* * *

When the darkness covers the world in fear,  
in shadow-flame burning, burning, ice and fire,  
when terror blots out the sky and your feet  
cannot carry you far enough and your voice   
panic-stricken only allows a final death-cry  
and the waking nightmare falls upon you...  
that from which there is no escape--

And when in death you go silent at last, fall  
to the unsympathetic dust and the leaves  
wilted by the dark fire, with your life-blood  
spilt in crimson stains upon the cold ground   
where once you walked carefree and hopeful  
and blind to the grim fate that waited for you...  
that from which there is no escape--

With dying breath you have cursed me,  
set another ache into my guarded heart  
and one more stain upon my long-dark soul,  
for I cannot ask your forgiveness in this,  
I will not beg your understanding now;  
but I have fulfilled my bitter duty...  
that from which there is no escape.


	3. Voices from the Past

From Outside Time: a collection from Ulara  
Opened in Deningrad National Library 100 After Moonfall  
voices from the past (writings of the six Dragoons)

* * *

**Of Damia**

_(This fragment may have been part of a longer piece; other fragments found in the same location were illegible with water damage. --Miata) _

The sky weeps and I with it,  
for the world is dry and cold and lonely...  
my tears are an ocean,  
and I want nothing more than to drown in it,  
sinking lightless and warm into peace.

* * *

_(Rose remembers hearing fragments of this song, but doesn't recall the tune, and there are no records of it. --Miata) _

Where the sea sighs,  
this is home.  
Where the waves rise,   
this is home.  
The land is dry  
far from home...  
And tears I cry  
far from home...  
Now the rain falls;  
take me home!  
The water calls;  
take me home!

The sea's full of songs but there's room for one more,  
And my voice could echo across the long shore--  
The ocean holds peace and a hope that I've known  
And I'll stay forever and not be alone.

But the song dies  
from my home--  
And the wind cries  
from my home--  
I search again...  
no one's home.  
Night closes in...  
no one's home.  
And now I fear  
I'm alone...  
Don't leave me here  
all alone!

The sea carried songs but I hear them no more,  
And no voices echo across the long shore--  
The ocean held peace and a hope that I've known  
And I'd stay forever--but never alone...

And now I fear  
I'm alone...  
Don't leave me here  
all alone!

* * *

_(This may well be a rough translation of an old mermish lullaby, since it seems an unlikely thing for Damia to have written herself--the translation could be Damia's work, but more likely was told her by her mother. Rose tells me that Damia did have a habit of humming something in an unfamiliar language from time to time but was not in fact fluent in the merfolk tongue, so the latter is the most probable explanation. If so, it is also interesting because it is the only such translation I have ever heard of, as the merfolk were never apt to share their poetry and songs, and there are so few of them left now that such things have for the most part been forgotten. --Miata) _

Sink back into the ocean's embrace,  
let the current drift where it will;  
know that I am with you always,  
you are safe in my arms.  
So sleep, my child, beloved,  
close your eyes and let the waters  
carry you gently into dreams;  
child of the sea, do not fear the waves.

* * *

**Of Syuveil**

_(A surviving entry from a severely damaged journal; some kind of scientific or philosophical notes, I can't say I understand more than a third of it myself. It seems to have been written shortly after the Dragoons battled at Mayfil. --Miata) _

Is there nothing but darkness? several words illegible...life--what is life? We come from nothingness, we return to nothingness, and all we think we know is forever lost after a few short years.

Why should anything be worth dying for? To die is surely to lose the world, to lose all possible hope of light, of friendship, of all that can possibly be held dear. Once I am dead, the world might as well have never existed, for all that it will matter to me. Why do we fight to save a world we will never live to see?

Death tears the soul from the body, leaves the empty shell to rot, and I have seen enough of that to know there is nothing left there of identity. Mayfil draws the soul into darkness, darkness, and the screaming fragments of whatever you knew and felt and believed fall into nothing, a nothing spread out on the tip of the darkness--

I am a scholar, I ought not to let my emotion affect my observations. But Soa, Divine Tree, whatever gods there be, why must we live at all if we return to nothing in the end?

* * *

**Of Kanzas**

_(Kanzas was never one for writing down his thoughts, and the note below, provided by Rose, is the only thing of his we could find. --Miata) _

Rose--

I don't care how much you'd rather be cuddling with Zieg, you and me are meeting in the practice court at sunrise tomorrow. It's on the schedule and you're not getting out of it, so don't try. And don't be late.

K.

* * *

**Of Belzac**

_(These scraps were found scattered around his desk after the battle of Kadessa, in which Belzac died defending Shirley and she died shortly afterward. All were scratched out and nearly illegible. Whether he finally got up the courage to give a finished version to Shirley, or spoke to her on the subject, Rose isn't sure. --Miata) _

Dear Shirley,  
I wanted to tell you before the battle that I

My dearest Shirley,  
Please don't think that

Beloved Shirley,  
You have been my

Shirley--  
Your pure heart has

I hope you won't think me too much of an idiot for saying things like this, Shirley, but I have to tell you, before today's battle, that I've grown to care deeply for you.

Shirley, I can't tell you how much I've

I love you, Shirley. I only wish there were more time to spare, to be with you without this constant threat of death, to find out whether we have a chance for a life together. But since either of us, or both, could die today, I wanted you to know

* * *

**Of Shirley**

_(Being both responsible for healing those most badly injured and also one of the seven Dragoons, Shirley had very little time for anything of her own, and she was no poet. This letter, now only preserved in fragments, was originally directed to me, and it is all I have left of Shirley, who was very dear to me. I enclose a copy in her memory. --Miata)_

Dear Miata,

I meant to write sooner, but ever since the Zenebatos victory it's been one skirmish after another. Melbu knows his empire's crumbling, and seemingly he's taking every chance to get revenge. Petty revenge too, some of it. They tried to destroy the Crystal Palace after we captured it, did you hear? Stupid of him, if you ask me--that would set the Divine Dragon loose again, after all, and it's Winglies he hates most, especially now.

I suggested to Charle when she dropped by the camp that it might have been some inexperienced commander, seeing as her brother's lost most of the experienced ones, but she just shook her head and muttered about talking with Emperor Diaz. And now there's three times the guards on that fallen city, and Mayfil, too, what's left of it. Lots of them are Charle's soldiers, too, her Wingly allies.

Wish I knew what was going on. Did Charle mention anything to you, or is it all too top-secret to be talked about in letters, even if they're magically sealed?

But none of that was really why I wanted to write.

Everyone knows the attack on Kadessa has to be coming up, though the exact timing is so top-secret even we Dragoons haven't been told yet; Diaz wants to preserve some element of surprise, presumably. There's rumors and false information flying all over the place. But whenever it is, it has to be soon, before Melbu has time to throw some new nasty surprise at us.

And I have a feeling that this will be the last battle, the end of the war. Melbu will never give up Kadessa, and without Melbu the Empire will fall apart; he's never let anyone have anything close to enough power to challenge him or take his place. But it will be a hard one, probably our hardest yet.

There's never been any guarantee any of us will survive the next battle, but it seems more true than ever now.

So this letter is most of all to make sure I'm...well. Prepared.

You saved my life, Miata, and taught me not to judge people too quickly, not to assume all Winglies were evil. If not for you I'd never have had a chance to make a difference. You brought me up well, and I know you loved me.

You could never take the place of my mother, of course, but I did love you, Miata, and do; like an older sister or a particularly nice aunt. Like family. I wanted to make sure you knew that, before the battle. I've been writing you ever since you came to Ulara and it was safe, but I'm not sure I've ever really said that.

Tell the twins I miss them, and give them my love, too, if--well, if you see them again before I do. Lakia and Leon will always be my siblings, in my heart even if not in blood and no longer in name. I wish they had stayed safe with you, but I suppose they have as much right to risk their lives as I do.

One more thing. I've left nothing unsaid between most of my friends and I, but Belzac is...a different situation. You're the only one I trust with this, because most everyone else would either tease me or tell Belzac immediately, and most of my friends will be in the battle, anyhow...

If Belzac survives and I don't--and how I hope dear Belzac lives through this, even if I don't!--tell him I've always loved him. And that because I love him I want him to go on with his life. The world we won will need guidance still--grief is no bad thing, but he's got to live past it...

I've just had a terrible thought that it may be me you're quoting this letter to. It won't help at all, will it?

I hope you'll know what to say and not say better than I do. But don't let him waste his life mourning me.

With luck I'll see you in a week or two, and we can all toast Melbu's defeat and laugh together about how ridiculous this letter sounds. Till then, may Melbu Frahma be cursed with an allergy to magic and uncontrollable itching.

I'm glad you're staying out of this battle, though perhaps I'm selfish to feel that way. Keep all the children safe, there in Ulara. They're the future, after all. I know you're taking good care of them; I was one of your children, after all.

With all my love,  
Shirley

* * *

**Of Zieg**

_(This packet was provided by Rose--containing, she said, some copied bits of things Zieg had left behind--on the condition that I not look at anything in it. I therefore suspect that the contents are somewhat personal, though I believe she kept the majority of what Zieg left behind entirely to herself. --Miata) _

...I still can't believe you said yes! I am absolutely the luckiest Human in Endiness, you know, you've just proved that. Hope to see you after you and Michael finish the patrol. If I'm not done with the meeting by then, come and drag me out. Please.

Your Zieg

* * *

...this has been getting halfway popular among the people here at Magrad. It's anonymous, but you know the poet rather well, so I imagine you can guess:

We stand upon a pinnacle of time,  
balancing death with life enslaved,  
balancing swords with empty words.  
Too long have we waited,  
blindly accepted our place;  
what place have we save what we choose?  
We are slaves by choice alone  
for no magic compels obedience.

And so let us rise up, casting bonds aside--  
even as we shear the darkness that covers the earth  
let us shear away corruption from our hearts  
accustomed so to being ruled.  
Knowing full well that we shall be killed,  
what use have we for self-preservation?  
We shall strike strong and true  
and free the world though none be left to see it.

I know it's not very good poetry--hopefully the ones I dedicated to you are better--but the soldiers seem to like it, though they don't know it's me who wrote it, so I figured I'd send you a copy.

War is depressing. We Humans have got a better chance of living if we fight than if we let Charle's baby brother have his way, though, which is enough to get anyone into the army.

Hope to see you soon.

Your Zieg

* * *

Dearest Rose,

Here's another bit of a poem for you, since you said you wanted to see...

Dark whispers echo unending in our ears:  
_all love becomes agony,  
all hopes wither and fade._

We shall not listen, we sing defiance:  
what use is life without love?  
what can be changed without hope?

For though all else fail and fall, these remain:  
love beyond death,  
hope beyond despair.

As usual, I'm rather embarrassed to have it widely known that I wrote the thing, especially since it's in a Wingly style. But I was thinking of you when I wrote it, though it didn't turn out quite...well, not nearly as encouraging as I'd wanted it to be.

Mayfil's ruins are scattered across the earth, and their oh-so-powerful Flanvel is buried in ice. We've got Melbu's people running scared. And they _still_ have the nerve to send an irritating, highly insulting little note. Marked as being from Mayfil, if you can believe that. Some kind of promise of revenge. Dunno whether it was from the Winglies or those blasted smoke things they consort with, actually.

Hey, after we crush the Life Capital to splinters, want to come with me and we'll pound Mayfil a little more into the dust?

Your Zieg


	4. Charle's Sealed Writings

From Outside Time: a collection from Ulara  
Opened in Deningrad National Library 100 After Moonfall  
Charle's sealed writings

* * *

_(Like Rose, Charle wanted her contributions specially sealed and refused to let me look at them. I don't know whether she included the song I've caught her singing sometimes. If not I want to leave some record of it, though I don't know the words. She calls it Melbu's lullaby, and it's the creepiest thing I've ever heard, which is saying a lot since I've written some pretty creepy lullabies myself. It's sad, for Charle's sake, but creepy. Maybe I'm biased, but just the thought of the former Emperor being sung to sleep at all... _

_Not that I would ever say that to Charle. It would be rude. Of course, I know she knows I think so...--Miata)_

* * *

Their lives are on my hands as well  
but it is she who comes home alone,  
blood-stained and empty-eyed,  
she whom they blame.  
Widows and orphans name her Black Monster  
and the survivors lay curses upon her;  
but they survive.  
The world goes on.  
And elsewhere children yet laugh,  
and deepening eyes meet in love,  
and life blooms, and fades,  
in the slow dignity of time.  
And this is enough;  
this must be enough;  
this is all I have.  
And even this cannot be mine.

* * *

Is death the proper end to life,  
as every night must end in dawn?  
Are we alive who cannot die,  
are we awake who cannot sleep?  
Time passes by and avoids us.  
Silence creeps into weary hearts.

Sleep is dearly bought with long waking.  
Death would be welcome in our moonlit hours.  
Longer life is only longer to wait.  
What makes the world worth saving?  
Tell me if you remember, for I cannot.  
Does Soa too grow weary of the years?

Can you recall to me the songs of children,  
and bonds unbroken between friends?  
Can you tell me there is yet peace and joy,  
that laughter still comes with love?

All these I have forgotten long ago.  
All my songs are sorrow now,  
and all laughter gone bitter.

Tell me somewhere someone lives  
who still believes in love unending.  
It is enough.  
I will wait.

* * *

I sent out the warriors in battle and waited:  
so few returned to know the peace they gained,  
fewer were still capable of acknowledging it.  
Dare I ask forgiveness?  
For their sake and the sake of their children,  
I will not tell them of the Moon.  
It is better that they know nothing of that fear  
than that their souls like ours grow weary of life.

I sent my dark flame to save the world  
and closed my heart to her pain.  
They were all dear to me once,  
but it was no act of love to ask such a thing.  
For they will hold her responsible for the deaths,  
and she does herself; but she is not--she is not.  
The decision was mine, mine the failure.  
Yet I found no other way...

Without complaint she went out  
to do as I had commanded her, the unending task;  
numb from the war at first, and then,  
sharing in our stale timelessness, grown cold.  
I do not deny I expected that.  
The blood that stained her sword is on my hands.  
Forgiveness is more than I deserve.  
I cannot ask it of her, nor of the world I wounded.

Years pass, but it is grief that ages me.  
I turn my face to ancient stars and ask:  
how long have I lived?  
I have lived too long.  
But young eyes look up at me  
and I know my duty yet unfulfilled.  
Their lives must be preserved though I find no joy in my own.  
If you can, understand this...I had no choice.

* * *

Now I lay me down to die,  
If I wake, then let me cry.  
The world is cold, despair soul-deep,  
Must I wake again from sleep?

Now I lay me down to die,  
I have bid the world good-bye.  
What can I do except to weep?  
Must I wake again from sleep?

I cannot yet lay down to die.  
The world must live, and so must I.  
I have a promise yet to keep.  
I must wake again from sleep.

* * *

_Melbu's Lullaby_

Did you still remember that time long ago?  
You were my dear brother, that's all you could know,  
And you wouldn't sleep, not for anything,  
Till I came to hug you, and softly I'd sing:  
When darkness comes down like a veil over day,  
When light dims and stars shine and noise fades away,  
Hush now, beloved, there's no need to weep,  
Lay your head down and I'll sing you to sleep.

Did you still remember, or had you forgot?  
You grew proud and cruel, and heeded me not,  
The years came between us, you sent me away.  
You said I was worthless, yet still I would say:  
When darkness comes down like a veil over day,  
When light dims and stars shine and noise fades away,  
Hush now, beloved, though you've made me weep.  
Lay your head down and I'll sing you to sleep.

If you had forgotten, perhaps it explains  
Why of my dear brother no trace now remains.  
I knew you had plans I could never accept.  
I saw your dark shadows, and softly I wept:  
When darkness comes down like a veil over day,  
When light dims and fear grows and joy fades away,  
Hush now, beloved, your shadows won't keep.  
Rest in peace, darling, I'll send you to sleep.

I loved you still, but I heard your demands.  
The children did not deserve death at our hands.  
I plotted against you, I hoped you would die.  
Long years have passed since, and come dusk I sigh:  
In darkness I left you, in darkness remain.  
You gave the orders, but I felt the pain.  
Hush now, beloved, though darkness comes deep.  
I have no peace left since I sent you to sleep.


	5. songs of the children

From Outside Time: a collection from Ulara  
Opened in Deningrad National Library 100 After Moonfall  
songs of the children

* * *

_(There were very few children in Ulara at the beginning, and there have been few since, but some parents are determined enough to go through the considerable inconvenience. It requires leaving Ulara and living for several years at one of the oases in the desert, since children do not age while within the boundaries of the city any more than adults do. Although there have been steadily fewer children in the city, they have always tended to remain young for many years, and only leave to grow up a bit every decade or so. There are many songs and rhymes created for their benefit; we treasure those few we have. Rose tells me that the Humans have begun to think that children ought not to be exposed to concepts that would frighten them, and I expect death and the end of the world would qualify. In Ulara, however, we feel it is most important that our children understand our purpose here. --Miata) _

* * *

_(This is a common lullabye. I wrote it myself, though I didn't think when I wrote it that people would actually sing it to young children, to be honest. There weren't any in Ulara at the time. I feel a little guilty about it from time to time, wondering whether the poor children are getting nightmares from it, but they've all turned out all right so far. There's definitely a need to explain to them what death is exactly, since most of them have never seen it. --Miata) _

Deathsong

Death is called the longest sleep,  
The dead have left us, and we weep.  
But you can sleep, no need to fear,  
Death can never touch us here.

Death is the end of the life we know,  
We cannot see where the dead may go.  
But you can sleep, no need to fear,  
Time brings death, there's no time here.

From death's long sleep no one can wake,  
Though we may wish it for our sake.  
But death is nothing that we fear;  
You'll wake and we'll still be here.

Death is the end of the life we know,  
End of grief and end of woe.  
But till the blood-stained moon comes near,  
Death can never touch us here.

So close your eyes and go to sleep,  
Time will wait, your games will keep.  
Death is nothing that we fear;  
You'll wake and we'll still be here.

* * *

Have they seen the bloodstained moon?  
Yes, and thought it holy.  
They look to what would bring them death  
and joy is all they see.

Have they seen their last hope fight?  
Yes, and thought her evil.  
They look to she who saves the world  
but see just what they will.

Can't we tell them what is true,  
that they have seen it wrong?   
Why can't they come to fight by us,  
we who have fought so long?

Their hope and their innocence  
is worth more than their hate.   
We must not bring this fear to them  
and so alone we wait.

* * *

Moon's glow blood-red  
falls on my head;  
above us the fear   
stirs and draws near--  
Black fire ignites,  
killing all lights...  
ashes remained,  
our hands blood-stained.  
We understand they can't forgive.  
Children die so the world can live.

* * *

Sing of a people lost in time  
and a journey beyond despair;   
Sing of a city time forgot  
and a girl of night-black hair.

Sing of the Moon that hovers bright  
and the danger waiting there;  
Sing of a child who cannot live  
and a girl who cannot care.

If she kills, the people weep  
And then the world will mend.   
If she fails, the red Moon wakes  
And then the world will end.

* * *

_(Everyone categorically denies that this song has any connection to Rose. She doesn't believe everyone. She's right, of course. I strongly suspect Charle had something to do with this, though officially it's anonymous. --Miata)_

See the rose, help it grow--  
light above, dark below.  
In dark soil roots grow deep,  
So the gentle flowers keep  
Petals soft and red and sweet,  
Long untouched by desert heat.  
See the rose, give it love--  
dark below, light above.

See the rose, help it grow--  
light above, dark below.  
Thorns it has, but fear them not,  
If the flowers you have sought.   
Thorns and roots all have their roles;  
So the flowers heal our souls.  
See the rose, give it love--  
dark below, light above.

* * *

_(This one is a fairly common clapping-game among many Ularans, but only when Rose is gone. If I recall correctly, Rose has more than once threatened to throw children she caught singing this into the canals--and some people not so young. I believe Charle had a hand in the verse, though she's never admitted it. --Miata) _

Ulara brings life to the desert,  
Ulara brings life to the sand.  
But Rosie brings hope to the world, for  
Our Rosie brings death by her hand.

The Moon would destroy if she let it,  
Against that foe no one can stand.  
But Rose is the hope of the world, for  
Our Rosie brings death by her hand.

The innocent die with the guilty,  
They call her a curse in the land.  
But Rose is the hope of the world, for  
Our Rosie brings death by her hand.

It's either the child or the world dies,  
And none of them yet understand.  
But Rose is the hope of the world, for  
Our Rosie brings death by her hand.

Our city brings life to the desert,  
Our city brings life to the sand.  
But Rosie brings hope to the world, for  
Our Rosie brings death by her hand.

* * *

_(This song--more often a chant--I definitely did not write, and it's one of the most annoying ones ever made in my opinion, if only because of the sheer volume the children give to the sound effects they insert. The song also involves a fair bit of cupping hands to ears in a pretence of listening--I know it's only a pretence because if they were really listening, they would hear me telling them to keep it down. And they never seem to grow out of it, either. On the other hand, I do sympathize with the feeling they put into it. Oh, and in case anyone's wondering about the mention of rain when we live in the desert, remember that we create water by magic--and rain seems very appropriate sometimes. --Miata) _

Listen to the wind, hear the wind, here it sighs.  
The wind calls, the wind moans, here the wind sighs.  
(Assorted sound effects.)  
Hear the lonely wind, here it sighs.

Listen to the sand, hear the sand, here it dies.  
The sand shifts, the sand pounds, here the sand dies.  
(More soud effects.)   
Hear the barren sand, here it dies.

Listen to the rain, hear the rain, here it cries.  
The rain falls, the rain weeps, here the rain cries.  
(Yet more sound effects.)  
Hear the mournful rain, here it cries.

Listen for the Moon, hear it gloat, hear its lies.  
The Moon laughs, the Moon scorns, hear the Moon's lies.  
(No sound effects at all. No one wants to speak for the Moon, seemingly.)  
Hear the cruel Moon, hear its lies.

Shout with us now, to the Moon, to the skies!  
Shout our pain, shout our rage, to the sullen skies!  
(Loudest sound effects ever. No particular words are usually discernable.)  
So we shout defiance to the skies!

* * *

_(This poem commemorates the children who chose to take their chances outside Ulara--there have been several over the long years who both wanted to leave and got permission from Charle to do so. They were old enough to make the decision for themselves, but they always seemed very young to we who stayed. None returned, and if Rose ever came across word of them, she hasn't told us. We know they are dead, one way or another, for even the last was a thousand years ago and they would not have kept the years away as we have. We haven't the courage to ask if Rose knows how they died. --Miata)_

Little one, little one, where are you going?  
Where are you going, so early today?  
The sun is not high and the moon is still bright--  
It's still far too early for you to play.

They called me this morning, they called me by name;  
I woke you to kiss you and tell you good-bye.  
I'm going with them now, I'm leaving my friends now,  
They'll take me outside now and then I shall die.

Little one, little one, let me go with you!  
Let me go with you, into the long sleep!  
For I am soul-weary, my heart aches within me,  
There's little of living that I want to keep.

They called me this morning, they did not call you;  
The moon glimmers red and the moon-child is near.  
I'm going outside now, I'm going to die now,  
But for my life's sake you must fight on here.


	6. laments

From Outside Time: a collection from Ulara  
Opened in Deningrad National Library 100 After Moonfall  
laments

_(There are many anonymous laments in Ulara; laments come easiest. --Miata) _

* * *

They laugh, and love, and live, and cry.  
They have never known.  
They laugh, and love, and live, and die.  
And here we wait alone. 

Alone we wait, alone we weep,  
and with our silent, bitter tears,  
we pay a price that's far too high  
for lonely, loveless, endless years.

They laugh, and love, and live, and cry.  
They have never known.  
They laugh, and love, and live, and die.  
And here we wait alone.

Alone we wait, alone we weep,  
and in the silence, bitter tears  
become too high a price to pay  
for lonely, loveless, endless years.

* * *

When death comes down in darkest night,  
all who have loved will rise to fight.  
But love can be no more to me  
than long-dry tears and memory. 

Is love forever? How can love end,  
when wounds of memory never do mend?  
Is love forever? How can it be,  
when death steals everything I loved from me?

Now death creeps near in blood-stained light,  
and we who loved rise up to fight.  
And love can be no more to me  
than rain and bitter victory.

Is love forever? How can love end,  
when wounds of memory never do mend?  
Is love forever? How can it be,  
when death steals everything I loved from me?

If death at last should win this fight,  
and all the world fall into night,  
will death at last take all from me,  
all, even tears and memory?

Is love forever? How can love end,  
when wounds of memory never do mend?  
Is love forever? How can it be,  
when death steals everything I loved from me?

When I at last fall into night,  
and leave behind this endless fight,  
will I find love waiting for me,  
and hope reborn from memory?  
Is love forever? How can it be?  
Can death bring all those I loved back to me?

* * *

Time...  
_all is memory and dream and  
we dreamed once but now all  
fades, fades, watch the petals  
falling leaving lonely flowers forlorn_

time passes...  
_and empty hearts sway in  
hopeless breezes aimlessly  
drift away and back but never  
find a way out for there is none_

so slowly...  
_too fast too fast the years  
speed by and only the roses  
mark their passing with blooms  
that grow and fade and die alone_

here...  
_with none to see their beauty  
for our eyes are dulled now  
with the countless times before  
when the roses bloomed and died_

we wait...  
_and hope died in our hearts  
because we have seen now too often  
how all things fade and die and  
the world too has its end_

alone...  
_long cut off from all the world  
by these endless years passing  
in the task we accepted long ago  
and the blood that stains our souls_

silent...  
_voices fade in the straining time  
saying nothing to anyone for  
there is nothing left for us to say  
all our thoughts are grown dim_

despairing...  
_with nothing left to us now but despair  
the world sleeps unknowing of its danger  
and we cling to their blind hope and press on  
but how long how long can we hold it back--_

_And yet--_  
the world is fair the world yet lives  
and though death must come to all  
still life remains and grows and hope  
hope is not gone while they live.  
_hold to hope and live..._

* * *

Once, the dark flame burned clear:  
but sorrow snuffs out joy with icy hands,  
and heavy guilt smothers it. 

Few see past the fear-shadow:  
millenia of anguish lie buried within her eyes,  
love frozen unchanging by the passing years.

Despair falls with the night:  
in darkness the shadow allows no companion,  
but alone fades silently away.

* * *

Time passes but leaves us unaged:  
our souls grow weary, but no matter,  
for that is the price paid for the world. 

If ever we loved, we have forgotten:  
caught away from the long days and years,  
emotion dulls and we with it.

All that remains now is duty:  
time's corridors stretch endless before us,  
and all light of hope has gone.

* * *

We are the faithful:  
when Charle called we came,  
when our age passed away we remained. 

We are the forgotten:  
we protect the world's children,  
but they have cast us aside.

We are the weary:  
our magic holds back time,  
nothing can hold back despair.

* * *

_Caron's Lament_

They will write no songs for us,  
so we must write our own:  
they do not know our endless task,  
how long these years have grown.

We cannot win against this foe,  
the fears that it has sown:  
we must protect their innocence,  
and so we fight alone.

How long, how long? How long now?  
How long can we hold here?  
Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask now.  
Without us death is near.

They will sing no dirge for us,  
so we must sing our own:  
we fall to fight the coming fear  
that they have never known.

How long, how long? How long now?  
How long can we hold here?  
Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask now.  
If we fail death is near.

* * *

Eternity stretches before us,  
and all we can do here is wait.  
But when will our waiting be over?  
How long can we still defy fate? 

We only need wait till the world ends--  
how long till the Moon comes awake?  
We only need wait till the world ends--  
how long can a last resort take?

The years pass so slowly behind us,  
and all we have done here is wait.  
But when will our waiting be over?  
How long can we still defy fate?

We only need wait till the world ends--  
how long till the Moon comes awake?  
We only need wait till the world ends--  
how long can a last resort take?

We only need wait till the world ends,  
and then at last death will have won.  
We only need wait till the world ends,  
and then all our waiting is done.

* * *

lest all that is fall to the void  
and hope fall prey to fear,  
you'll stay on your bitter quest  
and we'll wait for you here.  
forgive us that we do not come  
and that we cannot fight,  
we who have failed to meet this fear  
and cannot set it right;  
it is our fault that you must go,  
our fault that you must kill,  
forgive us for it if you can,  
and if not, as you will.  
for we would hold you blameless yet  
if your sword claimed us all,  
we who have doomed your pain to last  
until the red Moon fall. 

lest all that is fall to the void  
and hope fall prey to fear,  
I'll stay on this bitter quest  
and you'll wait for me here.  
too well I know you cannot come,  
and that you cannot fight,  
I know you failed to meet this fear,  
you cannot set it right.  
but freely have I chosen this,  
that death come by my hand,  
that all the world abhor my name,  
that my guilt saves the land.  
Their blood stains my sword and soul,  
and I have always known  
that though you share these weary years,  
the guilt is mine alone.

freely you took on our fight,  
and with us chose to wait,  
stayed to keep the world alive,  
to hold back deadly fate.  
But no choice were you given then,  
and no choice have you still,  
of how to keep the Moon away,  
no choice except to kill.  
As we have shared these weary years,  
the guilt we share as well;  
the credit is your own to take,  
the blame is ours to tell.  
it is our fault that you must go,  
our fault that you must kill,  
forgive us for it if you can,  
and if not, as you will.

_(Rose wanted to add another stanza to this, but so far has failed to convince anyone. We insist on having the last word. --Miata)_


End file.
